


Smell

by romanticalgirl



Series: Senses [4]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 06:37:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted 10-22-03</p>
    </blockquote>





	Smell

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 10-22-03

He steps off the plane and inhales the air, thick with anticipation, exasperation, excitement and sweat.

It's good to be home.

The area is crowded with departing passengers and he's silently grateful for the increased security measures of late. There used to be nothing worse than happy families, lovers and friends clamoring around the door, blocking his exit, drowning him in joy meant for others.

Now there's no one to greet anyone and, if he takes his time, moves slowly, lags through customs, he'll arrive on the other side having escaped any show of emotion but impatience.

Not that he has any emotion left. It's been ground out of him. Crushed by years of dread and despair, hope and loss, death and pain. Too much death. Too much pain.

He glances at the bar as he stuffs his passport back into his bag. It's tempting, despite the stench of fast food. He decides against it, moving down toward the tube, toward the crush of people. He wears his exhaustion like an overcoat and the chattering tourists ignore him just as his countrymen do. The train jerks and shifts, wheels and brakes squeak and screech.

He hears a laugh and it brings his head up. It's strange to hear laughter. Foreign, like a language he used to know but has long since forgotten. Like an accent he can't quite place.

The train stops and he looks around, shoulders his way through the crowd. The foggy, soggy London air rushes toward him like a living thing as he hurries up the steps, unsure what exactly he's running from.

Or running to.


End file.
